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poetry in motion

un orage monte sur la marée
les petites prières blanches
tandis que je tenais l'écoute, discrètement sourde-muette
j'ai entendu le vent toute la journée
gros mâles noirs dans une salle de vin-baril
l'obscurité roule vers le haut
nous avons aucune honte?

 



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